


there will never be a brighter day than this

by distanceseventeen



Category: Deltarune (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Free Will, Friendship, Gen, Time Loop (Sort Of), Video Game Mechanics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:42:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22891195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distanceseventeen/pseuds/distanceseventeen
Summary: The world of a video game cannot move onward without the player.
Relationships: Asriel Dreemurr & Kris (Deltarune), Kris & Susie (Deltarune)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 89





	there will never be a brighter day than this

**Author's Note:**

> For @summon-daze on Tumblr, who sent in an ask about Kris realizing that nothing major can happen once the video game demo ends. Thank you for inspiring this weird mini fic!
> 
> (And yes, I promise I'm still working on my longfic chapters. Don't worry.)
> 
> Trigger warning for what is essentially an extended suicide metaphor.

Nothing changes anymore.

Every day, Kris wakes up from their static sleep, their chest aching like a recent bruise. They stumble bleary-eyed from under the sheets, dry-mouthed, searching for water. They always feel muddled, as if they have woken into a reality that is not quite their own. Off balance.

They check the birdcage first. They always do. And always, the soul inside stays floating in the center of the birdcage, bleeding red light, never brighter nor dimmer. It never makes a move to break free and lunge back into their chest. Kris could almost assume it's dead.

Almost. When they lean in close, they can hear the sound of a pulse. Steady as a metronome, quiet as a secret. There is no motion to accompany it. Only sound, so soft that it could be mistaken for a hallucination. So silent it seems not to exist at all.

Every day, they pull on new clothes and head to school. Every day, Susie greets them awkwardly, the uncertainty of a brand-new friendship still fresh between them no matter how many days have passed. Every day, there is a lesson that Kris forgets as soon as they exit the school building. It all seems gray, washed out, unimportant. They can't bring themself to try to remember it. Nobody comments on the wagon they're pulling along with them everywhere.

The pain never leaves their chest.

Every day, they stand in the storage closet with Susie and wait for the floor to drop out from underneath them. Every day, it does not happen. Every day, they wait, for hours sometimes, hoping for a miracle. It never works. The Dark World has grown off-limits without their soul inside their chest.

Asriel is always about to come home. They hear it from their mom, from their dad, from everyone. He is always about to come back, to fill the empty bed on the other side of the room, to look at the birdcage in the corner of the room and to figure out how to fix it. He is about to return, in all his understanding and big-brother glory, and he will make the world that has endured his absence so long right again. 

Every night, they call him. Every night, only his voicemail greets them. 

They told Susie about the soul situation the first day. She was horrified, in her gruff way, and scared and angry and protective, and she cracked her knuckles, and told Kris she would beat it up for them. They assured her they didn't need her to. They weren't okay, but they were surviving, and they didn't know what destroying it would do, and they were fine just being themself for right now. She understood as much as she could. The two spent the day together, and though Kris' chest still hurt, they went to bed that night feeling almost warm. Almost… safe.

The second day, when Kris referenced the soul in passing, Susie looked at them like they were playing some kind of prank. Asked them what they were talking about. She remembered the Dark World ("of course I do, dumbass") but seemed unsure how long ago it was. She scratched her head and shrugged when they told her it was only two days ago. Remarked on how the days all seem the same around here.

They don't tell her about their soul again.

They didn't do much of anything, the third day. Their chest hurt too much to get out of bed. Their mom woke them up for school, but when they went back to sleep, nobody came to jostle them out of bed. It was familiar. After Asriel left, their mom had stopped forcing them to get up when they were depressed. Still, they woke up that afternoon in pain and afraid, and nobody was there, and when she came home, she didn't even reference the fact that they weren't at school. Susie didn't text or come over. It was like the world had simply skipped right over them. Nothing changed.

The soul's beat stays steady as a metronome throughout it all. It's only audible when Kris gets close.

They felt rage at it, once. Would swear and yell and kick the birdcage until it dented. They _hated_ it for ruining their life. But the anger has bled out of them. It seems pointless to be angry when it won't change anything. 

They spend their days oddly now, struck off balance by the knowledge that nothing they do matters. They hang out with Susie, sometimes. Garden with their dad. Chat with their mom. Play pranks that are always forgotten by the next day. Nobody seems to know how long it's been. Asriel is always coming home soon. Any day now, everyone says. Any day.

Asriel never comes home.

They know the source of the stasis. A world cannot move onward without its protagonist, and Kris has ripped that protagonist out of their chest. It's a simple fact. Simple, if brutal. If they want their brother back, if they want to have a better friendship with Susie, if they want to see Ralsei and Lancer again, they have to take the soul out of the cage themself and put it back inside their empty chest. Movement for the price of free will.

Did Asriel simply cease to exist? Without a Player, without the engine that keeps their world running, is he just unable to connect to Hometown, or is he gone? Or does he just not care enough to pick up the phone for them?

They're lonely. They're _lonely._ Once, they would have endured any cost in order to keep their body their own. They've been lonely and depressed before. They've even had constant pain before. The eternal meaninglessness could even just become more background noise. They're used to not having the things they do matter.

But… after Susie, after Ralsei, after Lancer, after so many missed voicemails to their brother that they no longer remember what his voice sounds like when it doesn't have the tinned tone of a prerecorded message, the loneliness hurts more than anything could. They can't stop remembering what it was like to be in the Dark World with their friends. It's the one bright spot in the endless wash of gray that has become their life. Though they still talk to Susie some days, it's not the same. They'll never be anything more than a brand-new friend to her.

They sit in their bedroom before the steady light of the soul one night and wonder: could they ever let themself be possessed again? Would it matter? Would anything they've ever done matter? Was all of this inevitable? 

And they grit their teeth, and a few tears escape, because it does feel like a kind of death to invite that thing back into their chest, and because they're scared of what it will do. They know from the top of their head to the tips of their fingers that if it wanted to hurt anyone, they would be nearly powerless to stop it. Even in the best circumstances, it's going to hurt. _They're_ going to hurt.

God. _God._ They're so alone. It's like it's ripping them apart from the inside.

They don't have a choice, do they?

They unlock the birdcage. The door creaks a little. Though there's no reason for it, they could swear that the beating of the soul gets louder. Their hands are shaking, but they reach for it. The red light spills over their fingers.

It's just going to make them put it back in themself, isn't it? A last act to beat their spirit down before it takes them over again. 

It's cold when their fingers touch it. They're shaking all over now. They can feel a pulse under their hands now, faint but regular. It's alive in its way. It's powerful.

And they just have to put it back in and let it eat them alive and it's okay it's fine because they've never been a person really and their choices don't matter and none of their choices have ever mattered and no matter how much they try to change fate they will never ever ever be anything more than a _vessel--_

No.

They can't. They won't. Not today. 

It's not going to get the better of them yet.

They're weeping, quiet and weak and _angry_ , so angry that it folds back into itself and becomes powerlessness again. They can barely see to shove the soul back inside the cage and lock the door again. The sobs wrack their body like a fever. Nobody comes to check on them. They're alone.

Though they're shaking so badly it takes them six tries, they find Susie's number in their phone. They don't know what they're doing. It's instinct, pure and simple. Even if she'll forget by morning, they need someone near them right now. They can't stand the loneliness anymore.

She picks up. Through scattered words and sobs, they tell her the situation. She reacts with shock and anger, and within ten minutes, she's climbing through their window. She's glaring at the soul. She's _here,_ present and alive, and in the face of her anger, Kris feels something inside them settle into place again. Reality feels far less a stranger.

"You're... going to... forget," they tell her, voice rusty from disuse. "Tomorrow. Or the next day. You're not going to… remember it."

"That doesn't matter," she says viciously. "I'll stay up all night if I have to. That piece of shit isn't allowed to win."

"You're still going to. Eventually."

"Then you're just going to have to keep reminding me until it sticks."

They don't know if they can. It seems like near-cruelty, laying that burden down on Susie again and again. They hate the soul for forcing them into this. They've never wanted to have anybody else hurt for their sake.

Can they keep doing this, day in and day out?

"Hey." Susie's hand clasps their shoulder. She looks unsure, awkward, but when they make brief eye contact, she's not the one to look away first. "You've been doing this alone for a long time, haven't you?"

They nod.

"I'm, uh. Not great at this. But you don't have to stick this out by yourself anymore."

"Okay."

"And if you need me to dropkick that thing into the lake, give the go ahead." She lets them go. Tenderness over, she seems much more certain of herself. "It can't keep messing shit up if it's underwater."

They crack a smile. "I dunno. Thanks, Susie."

"You're my friend, dumbass." The way she says it, like it's an immutable truth of the universe, eases some of the coldness from their aching chest. She picks up the birdcage. "Come on. Let's get rid of this. And then maybe grab some snacks and watch some TV."

They follow her. The night air is the same temperature as always. Despite that, they swear they're warmer than before. Susie throws the birdcage into the lake. It sinks into the water without protest.

She turns to them. Under the streetlights, there are already dark shadows under her eyes, but she smiles as if that doesn't matter. "Right. Let's go get those snacks, nerd."

They wipe the last of the crusted-on tear tracks from their cheeks with a hand. A smile tugs at their mouth. "Yeah."

It comes back. It always comes back. When Kris finally crashes after staying awake for two days in a row, it's there at the foot of the bed again when they wake up, heartbeat steady as ever. When they mention it to Susie again, she doesn't remember, but again, she gets angry at it. Again, she tells Kris that they aren't alone.

They hug her this time. It feels right. With the stiffness of someone unused to touch, she hugs back and calls them a nerd.

Nothing changes. Susie doesn't ever remember for longer than a day. But they keep reminding her, and though their chest aches badly enough they can't move some days, they keep going. 

They tell their mom once, forcing out the words like stones through a narrow grate. She holds them and cries and apologizes for not paying better attention. It's better than what they expected, though the weight of making her upset is still heavy on them. They're glad she won't remember it the next day.

Their dad is upset too when they tell him. Afterwards, they have to sit in the sun with Susie awhile, not saying anything, quietly tapping their chest until the sensation of being hugged too hard is gone. They know he means well. He's taking it hard, too.

Every day, they still try to contact Asriel. Every day, he still doesn't pick up. It hurts.

Nothing changes. Somehow, that is less a burden than it should be.

They perch on the edge of their bed one night after another missed call, looking into the steady red light, listening to the heartbeat. Their fingers tap their chest in an irregular counterpoint. They're thinking.

It's inevitable that they will give in someday. A world without anything new happening is only tolerable for so long. They're not determined enough to outlast despair forever. Someday, they'll stop telling Susie, and stop getting out of bed, and they'll consider it once again, and find that their life is too hard to continue as it is.

But it won't be today. It won't be tomorrow. It won't be the day after, and it won't be next week. The end isn't here yet. They're still Kris, and they are capable of holding out against worse than this.

"Fuck you," they say to the soul, almost lightly. Almost conversationally, as if expecting it to answer back. "I'm not giving in so easily."

The heartbeat keeps its inexorable pace.

Kris turns around and heads downstairs. Susie's got popcorn and a movie, and an evening full of friendship, even if it'll be erased again tomorrow. They have much better things to do than spend their time looking at something that can't look back.

One day, it'll cease to matter.

But not today.


End file.
